Matters of the Heart
by purplepanda242
Summary: How do you cope when everything goes wrong?


When Mike pushes open the door of Graceland, the house is silent - not the soft, inviting silence that usually welcomes him home, but the empty, piercing silence that leaves him rattled and terrified. He knows why as soon as he sees Johnny sitting immobile on the floor, beside a fallen Christmas tree, sporting a bruised eye and a cut above an eyebrow. Mike doesn't know what to say when he notices a certain black bag full of $9 million gone and Jakes similarly absent.

Johnny doesn't move or speak, but Mike knows well enough about injuries to know that Johnny's black eye must have had enough time to fully form, meaning he had been sitting here for quite some time. Mike takes off his coat, draping it on the seat cushion in the hall and soundlessly walks into the kitchen to make a cup of hot chocolate, something that Johnny did for him when he was sick after his detox a few weeks ago.

 _You know someone cares if he makes a cup of hot chocolate,_ Johnny had said to him seriously, _because hot chocolate is notoriously difficult if the right ratios aren't right._

 _I see,_ Mike had responded sluggishly through his pounding headache. _Duly noted._ He forgot to say thank you when Johnny placed a mug in front of him on the coffee table as Mike sprawled out on the couch.

Mike places a mug down in front of Johnny, briefly resting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze before sitting down next to him, resting an arm on a raised knee. The silence settles over the two of them once again as they wait for the rest of their housemates. Johnny doesn't touch his hot chocolate. He doesn't move. Mike hates the empty look in Johnny's eyes.

* * *

When Charlie, Paige, and Briggs file into the house two hours later, Johnny still hasn't moved and at this point Mike didn't even care whether his housemates were tired and exhausted and broken from a raid. When he sees Briggs, he gets up and stands in front of him, staring at him. His unspoken _"I told you so's"_ and _"What have you done's"_ drift seamlessly around in the air between him and his housemates. Briggs clenches his jaw and limps past Mike. Charlie heads straight for Johnny, who stands up to receive the hug Charlie already has out for him, the first thing he's done since Jakes left the house. Ignoring a pang in his heart as Johnny accidentally kicks over the untouched mug of (how ironic) cold hot chocolate, Mike wanders to the window overlooking the great Pacific Ocean.

It's funny, he muses, how big the ocean seems, and yet we can travel across it in a mere few hours. And how it seems so calm, when underneath it boils furiously and attacks the shore when it's especially angry.

And that's when he realizes: deep down inside the team has known of Briggs' manipulations and plans, because they all knew him before. They hated the thought of betrayal though, because Briggs had been such a father figure, had played such an instrumental role in their lives… long before he, Mike Warren the (sort-of) newbie, showed up and destroyed any semblance of whatever family dynamic that may have existed between any of them. They were loyal to Briggs, so of course he had encountered such wild resistance. Everyone had tried telling him that in their own way, both in the past and just a few weeks ago - but he had ignored them and continued destroying the house from the inside out.

He shoves his hands deep in his pockets as he recalls everything Briggs had done for him, both the good and the bad, but especially the good. Of course, he thinks to himself piercingly, of course he at once assumes the worst in Briggs when much of what Briggs had done was for Colby, for the team, and for Mike, himself. No wonder Johnny hadn't acknowledged him. No wonder Paige kept her distance. No wonder Charlie went straight for Johnny, bypassing Mike. No wonder Jakes walked out. All this time he thought Briggs was a terrible man, when in reality it was Mike who was so selfish.

A wave of guilt crashes over him like the waves he watches out the window now crash violently onto the shore, and he turns abruptly to change into something more comfortable to cook dinner, because he's sure nobody else is going to, not after someone so close had just picked up and left. Sure, Mike eventually saw Jakes as a close friend - but to everybody else Jakes was family.

In his head, Mike laughs to himself bitterly. Dinner. How terrible of life to keep going even if all they wanted was for the world to just stop. He would take care of them, Mike decides determinedly, and he would make sure he would be here to pick of all of the pieces, whether or not any of them wanted him to. He misses Paige's gaze as she turns to watch him trudge up the stairs, and Charlie's concerned look over Johnny's shoulder.

* * *

Charlie lets go of Johnny after a long while, but she still keeps close, stretching herself across his legs as he sits down on the sofa. Suddenly wanting just physical human comfort, Johnny waves Paige over as well, who is standing off to one side, for once unsure of what to do. There's so much Johnny wants to tell her - that she really isn't a bad guy (girl), that he understands why she told Sid Mike's name, that he gets why she called them as bad as criminals - but apparently everything is in his look because she smiles a little and sits down against his legs. Then Johnny watches Briggs slowly stand up and walk out, leaving a trail of red blood smeared on the ground after him. Great, another thing to clean up, Johnny thought sardonically. In the distance, the door slams shut. But other than empty bitterness, Johnny just feels numb.

He sees Mike reappear at the bottom of the stairs in a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt, and watch as his expression flits from confusion to irritation as he notices Briggs is gone. He doesn't say anything, though, and moves into the kitchen. "Does stir-fry sound okay?" His voice is low, his tone calm. "My cooking's probably not the best, but I'm not sure any of us are up for take-out."

Charlie and Paige murmur a yes from their position on the couch.

Mike crouches down and ruffles through the pots and pans in the drawers. "Johnny?"

Johnny shrugs a yes, even though Mike can't see him. He pushes Charlie and Paige off and disappears up the stairs to change. As he walks past Jakes' room, a tidal wave of anger and desperation hits him once again at full force. And just like that, he's furious. He sees red, and he aims it all at Mike.

Mike, Mike, Mike. It's always just _all_ about him, right? Johnny stalks into his room and slams the door, making sure everybody downstairs could hear it. What did Mike ever do for anybody except play the blame game, destroying everything in his path and leaving pain in his wake? Does he even care? The picture perfect FBI agent, the golden boy, all rolled into one. Jesus Christ, he even has the tousled blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes.

Mike just _has_ to be right. He just _has_ to perfect. He just _has_ to all the attention, and, well. (Johnny lets out a derisive snort.) He gets all the attention.

Johnny growls and his breath catches in his throat when he tastes the metallic sting of blood on his lip. He remembers Jakes punching him, unshed tears glimmering in Jakes' eyes as he stumbles through the door. Away from Graceland, from his family. Away from Johnny.

 _God._ It would not stop. Johnny rips off his shirt and throws it to the ground, and throws a pillow - the first thing that he finds on the floor - against the wall with all his might. A guttural yell leaps from his throat. "Just… just, stop!"

A silence rings in the air and he collapses on the floor. Johnny picks himself back up after a solid five minutes and scrubs his face, squeezing his eyes shut as he leans over the sink. He looks up into the mirror. Okay. He's okay. He's good.

* * *

Dinner is uncharacteristically subdued. Mike, at the side of the table closest to the living room, sifts through his vegetables. Paige picks at her food listlessly and Charlie manages a few bites. Across the table from Mike, Johnny doesn't even touch his food and instead toys with his glass of water.

"This is good, Mike," Charlie finally says, spearing a piece of broccoli.

"Yeah," Paige smiles, "it's good. So much for terrible cooking, right?"

Mike bites his lip to hide a smile. He ducks his head and says shyly, "Thanks."

At some point, the outside world had gone dark and left behind a timid moon that now peeps from behind the clouds.

Quietness falls again, for longer.

"This is good, Mike," Charlie repeats.

"Okay! We know this is good!" Johnny shouts. Mike, Paige, and Charlie's hearts leap from their chests and they look at Johnny, who grips his fork like a dagger. "We know everything that Mike does is good."

"I don't-"

"What," Johnny says, interrupting Mike. "You think a dinner will make up for what you did to Jakes?"

"Johnny-" Charlie tries intervening, but Johnny ignores her.

"C'mon, we all know Jakes left because Mikey here had to be the hero. If you just signed the damn papers, maybe he would have stayed."

"I signed the papers, Johnny," Mike pleads.

"But it was too late, wasn't it?" Johnny gets out of his seat.

"I didn't know Jakes-"

Johnny sweeps his plate towards Mike and stir-fry flies everywhere. "No, no, man, you didn't know. Of course you didn't know. But maybe if you thought of everybody here in Graceland instead of yourself, maybe we wouldn't feel this shitty because there is a missing person at this table, maybe we could all be laughing our asses off at something funny somebody said, and maybe, maybe, maybe we could be a family for _once_." Suddenly the fork shoots across the table in the air, and in a flash Mike ducks and looks behind him at the fork stuck into the wall.

"A family," Johnny says again, softer, choked, and he slumps into his chair, tears sliding down his face.

There's nothing but a stunned hush for a few minutes. Then, Mike brushes off some tofu off his shirt and says in a muted voice, "I'm sorry." He exhales and goes over to Johnny, who hasn't moved. Charlie starts as if to stop him, but pauses when Mike tentatively puts a hand on his shoulder and Johnny doesn't move. There's another pause. "I think your bed will be more comfortable than this table." Mike doesn't really know whether Johnny will let him bring him up to his room, but to his surprise Johnny allows Mike to lead him up the stairs.

Upstairs, Johnny collapses onto the bed face first still holding on to Mike, causing Mike to stumble.

"Sorry," Johnny says blearily. He crawls under the blankets, not even bothering to change. He hesitates. "I'm sorry about what happened downstairs. I didn't mean to." He tugs on Mike's arm desperately. "Really, Mikey."

Mike smiles softly and says, "Don't worry about it, Johnny. It's fine." He looks at Johnny thoughtfully for a minute and then murmurs, "I'll be right back."

Johnny nods and buries his face into the nearest pillow. Suddenly, the aroma of chocolate drifts across the room and he looks up to see Mike placing a mug of hot chocolate on his nightstand. Johnny is hit with wave of guilt in his chest. To think he was cursing Mike earlier in this very room, and to think of what just happened in the dining room downstairs…

Mike squeezes his shoulder soothingly and whispers good night, and in his growing pool of despair Johnny forgets to say thank you.

When Mike walks back into the kitchen, he finds Charlie on the ground still trying to pick up the leftover vegetables on the ground and Paige sitting in her chair motionless, staring into space and sitting cross-legged on her chair.

"Charlie," Mike chides gently, crouching down beside her. "What did I tell you about cleaning this up?"

Charlie looks up at him and drops an onion slice from the floor onto a plate. "Not to." But she reaches for a bell pepper anyway and puts it on the plate.

Mike reaches out and blocks her way to a piece of chicken. "Charlie, stop. It's okay."

Charlie's lip trembles, and Mike catches her before she hits her head on the table leg. "C'mon, Charlie. Let's get you up to bed, too." He pulls her up and they make their way up the stairs, Charlie leaning on Mike. She squeezes her eyes shut as they pass Briggs' room. Mike helps her get into bed.

"Thanks, Mikey," Charlie whispers as she curls up under the blanket.

Mike pulls the duvet snugly around her. "Of course." He pauses for a minute, sits down next to her, and says, "You know, whenever I'm exhausted from a long day I like to relax with a cup of mint tea, because it reminds me of Christmas when I was ten, which was coincidentally the last happy memory I had with my mother." He smiles sadly. "It's nice to remember something happy when all you're surrounded with is anger and sadness." Charlie looks up at him, quiet, confused, and empathetic. Mike adjusts the blankets around her. "Would you like some now? I guarantee it'll make you feel better."

Charlie laughs a little and shakes her head tiredly. "I'll hold you to it. But I'm okay for now." Charlie reaches out and grips his hand. "Thank you." There's a soft look in her eyes and Mike knows she means more than she says.

Mike rubs her arm reassuringly. "Of course." He turns off the light on the way out.

Paige is still sitting motionless on her chair when Mike goes back downstairs. She hadn't moved an inch since he was gone, and her legs must have fallen asleep in that position, but what unnerves Mike the most is the defeated look on her face. They study each other for a minute, undefined emotions and words swimming in their eyes.

"My turn?" Paige finally says, and she gives Mike a watery smile.

Mike smiles back. "Yeah." He extends an arm and when she takes his hand, he squeezes it. He tries to ignore the warmth spreading all over his body when she does so, and focuses instead on taking Paige to her room. He falters at her doorway, but she pulls him in.

She blushes as she says nervously, "I just need someone here right now, if you don't mind."

Mike can feel his face burning too but he manages, "Yeah, of course."

She sits on top of the blanket for a moment. He climbs up on top of the blanket next to her. She drops her head and her fingers pick at a loose thread so it looks like she's studying the duvet pattern, but Mike knows Paige better than he has ever known anyone. "Paige?" He reaches out to tuck her hair behind her ear. "Are you-" His words die in his mouth as she looks up and dear Lord, she's crying.

"Oh, Paige." He tugs her into a hug and she closes her eyes against his neck, curling up into him. This time there's no injuries between the two of them, so he pulls her as close to him as he possibly can because all he wants to do right now is make sure Paige Arkin feels loved and wanted (though he only faintly recognizes he just used the word 'loved'). He runs his hand through her hair.

They stay in that position for a while, even when her tears subside. A quiet falls over them, and Mike listens to it, wondering if this many silences have rang in this house before today, but the quiet here isn't tense or fearful - no, the quiet here is calm and gentle and peaceful. He's sure Paige feels it too, because she shifts in his arms to nestle even closer to his body.

"Sing to me?" Paige's hoarse voice fills the air. "Please?"

"Okay. Um." He hesitates for a moment. _"Drink with me to days gone by, to the life that used to be, at the shrine of friendship never say die, let the wine of friendship never run dry…"_

"Mm. You have a nice voice," Paige murmurs sleepily.

Mike laughs softly. "Thanks."

Asleep, Paige doesn't answer. Mike brushes the hair away from her face after he tucks her in. He looks at her for a minute, running a finger around her face and down the bridge of her nose, tracing the outline of her lips. He brushes the pads of his thumbs against her cheek, erasing the tear streaks. He kisses her on the cheek, and then he escapes, his heart yearning for something more.

 _"Here's to you… and here's to me."_

The three agents don't hear the yell and the sound of something shattering that leap from Mike's room twenty minutes later.

* * *

By coincidence or by fate, Charlie, Johnny, and Paige wake up early, and at the same time. They hum good mornings as they meet in the hallway, dressed in sweatpants and tank tops. Paige stops by Mike's room, frowning when she sees shards of shattered glass scattered across the doorway to his bathroom, and that the duvet and pillows on his bed had been pulled off.

Charlie puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and when they pass, on instinct the three of them peer inside Briggs' room. Everything is meticulously put in its place, the bed perfectly made. A very small part of Paige hopes he would be downstairs, hopes that he just made his bed after getting up this morning, hopes that she could find it in herself to forgive and trust again, but she know it's a futile wish: he never came back last night, and she would never trust him again. Instead she hopes time would lead her to forgiveness. She learned that the hard way, with Mike.

As the trio makes their way downstairs, she smells eggs and sees Mike's duvet thrown haphazardly on the couch, his pillows resting on top. The dining room is spotless, and the wall fork-less.

"Morning." Mike greets them from the kitchen with a tired smile as he mans the pan filled with scrambled eggs on the stove. Paige doesn't miss the dark circles under his eyes or the way his hands shake as he adds some mushrooms.

"Morning," Paige replies, sitting at the counter in front of him. The sunlight filters in through the window and falls on Mike, making him look the Greek god Apollo. Charlie and Johnny follow her lead, sitting down as well.

"These'll be done soon," he tells them, waving his spatula in the air at the pan.

"That smells good," Johnny says cheerfully. He leans forward carefully. "Thanks for doing this, man."

"Of course." Paige notices Mike's smile is a little brighter this time, and ducks her head to hide her own forming grin. "It's no problem at all."

"How are you feeling?" Charlie's eyes search Mike's as he pokes around the pan some more.

"Good, good." Paige's smile falls as she sees his other hand gripping the side of his sweatpants, his knuckles going white with effort. "As good as I can be right now, I guess." Het lets out an ironic chuckle. Paige gives him credit, though, since it's only because Charlie, Johnny and she are trained that they notice his quaky breathing.

There's a small silence as the three agents watch Mike closely.

"Mike." Charlie's voice is gentle and cautious, but firm. She leaves only room for truth. "Did you relapse last night?"

"No!" The three look alarmed from the venom and fear in Mike's answer. "I swear to God I didn't, I really swear."

Charlie reaches over to touch his arm. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Of course we believe you," she says, but she knows Mike won't believe her. Paige knows too, because she knows Mike thinks of himself as an idiot for leading them around in a wild goose chase looking for the Sarin gas. The urge to find some way to let Mike know that the three of them don't blame him for anything, that it was Briggs who instigated the whole thing unexpectedly overwhelms her. Johnny looks at Mike, frowning, and Paige senses similar thoughts running through his head.

Mike takes a shuddering breath. "But I was this close." The space between his index finger and his thumb are almost touching. "This close." He lowers his hand slowly, chewing viciously on his lip and refusing to meet any of their eyes, like he's ashamed.

Before she even registers what she's doing, Paige is up and out of her seat with her arms wrapped around Mike's torso. He tenses, startled, especially after they have danced around each other so long after the whole Sid debacle (excluding last night, she supposes), touching but not feeling, talking but avoiding. But she won't let him drift alone this time; she promises this to herself as she tightens her arms around him and he relaxes, bringing his arms around her too.

Mike buries his face into her hair so when he speaks next his voice is muffled. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Johnny's voice is gruff, taunt. "Man, you stopped yourself. You didn't give in to the shit."

"Johnny's right, Mikey," Charlie reaches out again to rub Mike's shoulder. "You're still recovering. As long as you don't give into that darkness you'll be fine. And you got us to help you."

"No, no, no." Mike jerks violently out of Paige's grasp and stumbles backwards. "No. You guys don't need to help me because you've already helped me and I haven't done anything except maybe be someone that you guys can always depend on to screw things up and be suspicious of and maybe even-" He runs a hand through his hair repeatedly, evading eye contact. "Maybe even destroy whatever family you guys had going before I showed up."

"This isn't about what I said, right?" Johnny's voice is heartbroken, and wracked with guilt. Vaguely Paige remembers words thrown around last night, but she's too focused on right now in this moment to really think. "I didn't mean it, Mikey, I didn't mean it."  
Charlie steps forward. "Mikey, no," Charlie shakes her head, extending her arm to reach out to Mike, but he flinches and steps away from her. "That's not true at all."

"Stop saying that! I know you all thought it."

"Mike-" Paige's heart plummets straight down to her feet. She feels as though she's treading water that's pulling her under and she can't breathe. Is this what Mike thinks? After everything he's been through? After everything they've been through? "Mike, you know that's not true."

"Of course it's true! Even I know it's true. When I got here I was self-centered and arrogant and cocky and when I left I was arrogant and self-centered and when I came back I was self-centered. I thought everything was black and white, I didn't know left from right and right from left, and I thought the FBI was the goddamn angels of heaven; I blamed everyone else for everything that went wrong when in fact everything was my fault, and, and… God, you all helped me when I went through my detox and Charlie, I wasn't there when you were going through your loss, and Charlie, you have to believe me I'm so sorry, I really am." Charlie opens her mouth to say something, eyes glistening, but Mike continues. "And then when Johnny came home hurt I didn't even say anything except afterwards, to suspect Briggs of doing something and Jesus Christ, Johnny, you're okay. I didn't even ask if you were okay when you called me when you were under as part of the Soto gang." Mike reaches out to Johnny for a second but pulls back instantly, as if he touched something scalding hot. "And Paige-" Mike's voice cracks and he steps back some more, into the living room, and his calves hit the couch. "I failed you, Paige."

And suddenly Mike Warren is crying and the three don't know what to do because it's the first time they've seen Mike cry. He squeezes his eyes shut and the tears slide down his face, collapsing at the foot of the sofa. They stand there for a moment, in bewilderment, as he buries his face in the crook of his right arm, which he rests on his knee.

Johnny is the first to move, and he sits down on the left of Mike, his hand occasionally reaching out to squeeze Mike's shoulder. Paige sits down, and once again wraps her arms around him. He tries pulling back, but Paige simply tightens her arms around him. Defeated, Mike drops his head down and presses his forehead against her neck.

Charlie seats herself in front of Mike. "Mike, look at me and listen carefully."

Mike looks at her from Paige's hug.

"There is nothing that we all don't regret. We're undercover agents. We tread the line between good and evil, and okay, so maybe sometimes we cross it. But do you know what separates us from the people we take down?"

Mike meekly shakes his head.

"We feel guilty. We know that we've crossed lines, we know we've done horrible things." Charlie reaches out and takes Mike's hand. "But sweetie, we all know you've got all our best interests at heart. That's what makes you special. That's what makes us special. What we do is so insanely difficult, what we face each day is impossible to understand for most people. We have the most difficult job of all, and it's not your fault if sometimes you get lost along the way."

Mike shrugs uncertainly.

"Man, I'm not going to lie to you, you were pretty obnoxious when you got here." Mike hangs his head at Johnny's words, but Johnny nudges Mike to let him know he's not finished. "But guess what, Mikey? You changed. Now you put our best interests in front of your own and, well. That's what we're going to remember you for. Look, Mikey, even though we're going through this shit we're going to remember the good in you. Just because you make mistakes doesn't mean you're a bad person. It just means you're human." Johnny pauses. "Besides, I can handle a punch. I get things done the manly way." Johnny ignores the snorts of Charlie and Paige, and jostles Mike. "Plus you make a damn good hot chocolate."

Mike lets out a breathy laugh that sounds half like a sob.

"Mike, you're not at fault any more than any of us are." Paige rubs Mike's back, making sure he's listening. She falters and then says, teary-eyed, "Mike, I forgive you."

Mike goes rigid for a moment, and in that instant Paige knows he's been carrying around this guilt for so long with no good reason, and she feels that much more guilty.

"I forgave you a long time ago," she says quietly. "But not as quickly as you forgave me." She feels his nose press into her collarbone. "I'll always be sorry for that."

A beat passes before he says more quietly, "You never had anything to be sorry for."

Paige's eyes fill with tears and her throat closes up and she can't breathe. Not for the first time, she wishes she could turn back time and stop herself from telling Sid anything. She tightens her arms around him even more, knowing this conversation will happen all over again on another day.

Charlie squeezes Mike's hands once again. "See, Mike? We can't help what we do, because in the end all we want is for the world to be a safer place, no matter how we get there. That makes all the difference. Okay?"

Mike takes a shuddering breath and lifts himself off Paige. Her skin feels cold without Mike's contact, but as soon as that thought streaks through her mind, he pulls her into him again and she nestles into him. Mike looks gratefully at Johnny, wincing when Johnny grins back and elbows him. "Ow. Okay."

"Good." Charlie crawls over to sit next to Johnny, and leans her head against his shoulder. He settles an arm around her, and the four agents sit there in a comfortable silence as the cool early morning breeze turns into a warm summer puff.

Paige isn't stupid; she knows it'll take a lot more than words from Charlie to completely convince Mike that he's a good person, but Paige also knows that this time she's is going to be there every step of the way. She'll remind Mike that he's wanted, that he's cared for. That he's part of the Graceland family.

Johnny breaks the silence. "Guys, I think our kitchen's on fire."

 **Hello!**

 **This is my first time writing for this fandom, so please correct me on anything wrong! I hope the characters aren't too OOC (or OOC at at all...). I'd love to hear your thoughts on this piece.**

 **Happy Monday!**

 **3,** **purplepanda242**


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